Chapter One
Statistically, I was more likely to die in a car crash. I knew because I'd researched it when I decided to take my first flight. In fact, I was more likely to die of food poisoning than the plane crashing. Just my luck, it would be the food on the plane that killed me. The same research told me take-off and landing were the most dangerous and likely times for a crash to happen. And it was that little nugget of information that had my stomach churning like it was on the high-speed setting of my Magimix. Had me grasping the boarding pass between my shaky fingers, holding onto it like a life preserver, the ink smudging from my sweaty palms.
The quiet of the airport left me too much time to focus on what a terrible idea this had been. Manchester airport was closer to my home in Marsdon, but I'd thought the chaos of a busy airport would make me panic more. Except standing there in Leeds Bradford airport, all I wanted was to disappear into the imagined crowds at Manchester. Lose myself in the bustle of a busier airport.
I turned away from the half-empty lounge to look out of the window. Stared at the gigantic metal death trap that would carry me across the ocean to Malta. Hopefully. Tried to ignore my ghostly reflection. My dark hair blurring into the black of the night. The crimson shirt I had thought would give my creamy skin a touch of colour conjured up images of blood instead. And not for the first time, I tried to remember why I had decided this would be a good idea.
“All passengers for flight FR2249 to Malta, please proceed to Gate 10. This is the final boarding call for flight FR2249 to Malta.”
At my flight announcement, I joined the rest of the stragglers in line to board. A young boy, hand clasped in his mother's, swung their arms to and fro. At least one of us was excited about boarding the plane. My brother's words of warning against doing this resonated in my head, and I questioned the sanity of my actions. Too late now.
I shuffled forward in line, dragging my carry-on suitcase behind me. When I reached the departure gate, a member of the cabin crew greeted me with far too much enthusiasm. Her blonde hair scraped back into a bun, skin flawless beneath the layers of make-up. Blue eyes framed by thick black eyelashes were all catlike with smoky grey eye shadow blended to perfection. I'd watched videos online, but I still hadn't been able to achieve that look.
“Can I have your boarding pass and passport please?”
I handed the documents over, and she gave me a sympathetic smile at the tremor in my hand.
“Welcome aboard, Ms Hardwick.” She glanced at my passport, open at the photo page, then scanned the boarding pass and handed them back. “Enjoy your flight.”
I tried to smile but as my nerves climbed past take-off level, it came out more like a grimace. How could anyone enjoy flying? It was beyond me. Crammed into a too-small seat, stuck with hundreds of strangers for hours. The human equivalent of a sardine can with the danger of landing always looming. And if worst came to worst, the best you could hope for was a quick death.
I closed my eyes and blew out a deep breath. Not the time to think about what was statistically unlikely to happen. I opened my eyes and traipsed down the corridor that led to the waiting aircraft.
After stowing my hand luggage in the overhead bin, I scrambled past the empty seats and dropped into the one beside the window. Fastened the seat belt around my waist. Tight. A quick rummage through the magazines in the seat pocket in front of me and I found the safety procedures card. Craned my neck to peer over the back of my seat. Found the nearest exit then twisted to face forward again, my gaze sweeping back along the aisle.
Stopped at the sight filling the gap between the end of my row of seats and the one in front. A sliver of lightly tanned skin above the waistband of a pair of dark blue jeans. His flat stomach hinted at the outline of toned abs before disappearing beneath a plain black T-shirt. Curling out from under the neckline of the T-shirt were a few stray black hairs. Above the long column of his neck, an angular jaw peppered with black stubble. Plump lips the colour of the icing I used to make roses—that looked like they'd taste just as sweet. Mmm, that was a sight for distraction.
I had been hoping the two seats in my row would stay empty, or at least the one next to me, but that view had me changing my mind. Maybe sitting next to Mr Sexy would distract me from disastrous thoughts about take-off.
However, knowing my luck—and as he was stowing his luggage above the row of seats in front of me—he wouldn't be sitting next to me. Perhaps that was for the best, though. If I was going to fall to pieces during take-off, the last person I wanted as an audience was a guy dreams were made of. Not like I was about to win him over with my immense flirting skills—which were lacking at the best of times, to say the least. I'd probably just embarrass myself with my nervous ramblings anyway.
My gaze returned to those plump lips that had pulled up on one side, and my cheeks flushed at being caught blatantly staring. I raised my gaze to his, and sank into eyes the colour of the chocolate ganache I loved to make—deep brown, rich, and shiny.
“Hi,” he said before his lips twitched up into a full smile. His voice, low and husky, sent a shiver down my spine.
“Hi.” His gaze released mine as he returned his attention to the overhead compartment. A final glance at that flash of bare skin showed ab muscles contracted into a well-defined six-pack. With a smile on my face, I turned back to peer out the window. If the flight ended in disaster, at least my last view would be one to remember.
An audible thump shook the plane, and I pressed my nose against the window to check what was happening. It was just the last of the luggage being loaded, but as the empty trailer drove off, my nerves kicked in again. It was dark beyond the window, but the light from the airport was bright enough to make out the man walking towards the front of the plane, his fluorescent jacket glowing.
The momentary distraction of Mr Sexy faded as I realised we were almost ready to take off. The fluttering in my stomach ratcheted up another level, and I wrapped my fingers around the cold plastic armrests.
Soft skin brushed across mine, drawing my attention back inside the cabin. I glanced over to see Mr Sexy take the seat next to me. His skin was hot and the hair on his arm tickled mine. But he seemed oblivious to the accidental touch that sent a shiver up my spine. He was probably used to being ogled by women on a daily basis. Was probably already taken by some model-worthy looking woman who didn't fall apart at the thought of getting on a plane.
And then the safety video started, drawing my attention away from him. The cabin crew demoed how to fasten the lifejacket. Showed off the torch and whistle. A high-pitched giggle escaped from my mouth before I clamped a hand over it. A mental image of me floating on the sea lying on a wooden door flitted through my head. Except I had no Jack to share it with or to try and save me. I was pretty sure there'd be no wooden doors to use as a lifeboat either. It would just be me, bobbing around in the frigid sea with a pathetic tiny torch and a useless whistle.
The plane jerked and a weird noise escaped my lips—half groan, half cough.
“You all right there?”
I tightened my grip on the armrests and gave a curt nod in reply. But I wasn't all right. Far from it. As the plane taxied away from the airport, the urge to grab the airsickness bag from the seat in front of me grew. Oh, please don't throw up. That would be so embarrassing. People managed to do this every day. Thousands and thousands of passengers flew all over the world without throwing up. I could do this. More likely to die in a car crash, I reminded myself. Or from the airline food, which my stomach definitely wasn't interested in. I never got this nervous when travelling in a car. Then again, I wasn't made to watch a safety video that reminded me of all the ways I might die when I got into a car.
The runway loomed ahead and off to the side, lit up bright against the dark night. I searched the view, trying to find something to distract myself with.
The plane turned, and I focused on the flashing light at the end of the wing as the runway disappeared from sight. Counted each separate flash of the light as we waited. The plane began to move, the engines roaring to life so much louder than I expected that I jumped. But then the wing bounced up and down—looking so flimsy, my hands became too sweaty to hold on to the armrest. Could a wing snap?
As I wiped my palms along my thighs, I tried to ignore the thundering beat of my heart. As the plane picked up speed, the force pushed me back into my seat. But I kept my eyes fixed on the flashing light at the end of the wing and kept counting.
As the front of the plane lifted, I noticed movement out of the bottom of my eye. My gaze swept along the wing and my hands instinctively lifted to wrap back around the armrests. Except my hand landed on soft skin, fingernails digging into flesh and drawing a gasp from him.
Part of the wing flapped up and down like a jack-in-the-box lid that had got stuck and could only open part way.
“Is—” My voice cracked and I cleared my throat before trying again. “Is that supposed to happen?” It came out high and squeaky and sounding nothing like I normally did.
His chest pressed against my shoulder as he leaned over to see what I was looking at. His warm breath blew across my ear and I sank back against him as if pressing against something solid would make everything all right. Make it disappear.
“No. That is definitely not supposed to happen.”